


It's not the age, it's the mileage.

by Zauzat



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Platonic Cuddling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-22
Updated: 2012-08-22
Packaged: 2017-11-12 16:40:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/493424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zauzat/pseuds/Zauzat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Douglas and Carolyn find the aftermath of the St Petersburg episode harder to deal with than they'd expected.<br/>Written for this kink meme prompt: "alpha dog and beta dog in one basket - that time Douglas and Carolyn shared a bed."</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's not the age, it's the mileage.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aura218](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aura218/gifts).



_Follows on after the St Petersburg episode:_

"I rather think you've had enough." Douglas put his hand over Carolyn's as she started to gesture for another round.

"Enough? I've barely started. We are celebrating, after all!"

"Celebrating? Really? You don't actually look all that happy. Besides, you'll enjoy the new engine all that much more if you fly tomorrow without a thumping hangover."

"Of course I'm happy!" protested Carolyn. "Got one over the old bastard, didn't I? I don't know why those other two lightweights have gone to bed already."

"I suspect Martin's suffering the exhaustion of adrenaline crash after that landing, probably Arthur is too," replied Douglas. "Not quite such old hands at surviving disaster as we are. Come on, if you don't want to be on your own, I'll make you a coffee in my room. Being a maudlin old drunk in a public bar isn't a good look."

"And who are you calling old?" demanded Carolyn haughtily as she followed Douglas to the lifts. 

"Both of us," replied Douglas with a wry smile. "Besides, you know what they say, it's not the age, it's the mileage. We've both had more than our fair share of mileage."

"Sadly that's true," mused Carolyn as the lift slowly creaked its way up to the third floor. "Did you see how he treated Arthur? Douglas, how could I ever have married him? Why the hell couldn't I _see_ it back then?"

"No good asking the man who's failed at three marriages," replied Douglas as he led the way to his room. "At least you have the intelligence to stop after two. I suppose every marriage is the triumph of hope over good sense."

"I feel such a fool," muttered Carolyn as she walked into Douglas's room and slumped down in the one small armchair. "I was always so determined to run my own life, be smart, be independent, and all I've done is made a muck of it all. He's the bastard. So why is he the one with all the money, with the working plane, with the trophy girlfriend? And I've got Snoopadoop, Arthur, G-ERTI and a mountain of debt."

"And your two dashing pilots of course," replied Douglas as he coaxed the ancient kettle into working. 

"Don't flatter yourselves!" snapped Carolyn. "Although you do have something of a point," she continued after a pause, her voice softer. "Martin landed my plane, you saved her from being sold for scrap. I might consider adding the Camembert to the cheese tray for that."

"Don't overwhelm us with your gratitude," said Douglas sardonically. "Anyway, it's no good asking me why one ends up in the twilight years of a life as a failure. As a young man I was so sure I'd be Chief Pilot at Air England by now. And look at me. Gordon wasn't entirely wrong about me." He handed Carolyn a cup of muddy brown liquid masquerading as coffee and then collapsed on the bed. 

"That man's wrong about everything! You haven't failed," said Carolyn fiercely. "I know what state you were in when I first hired you. I was taking advantage of it, after all. I never expected you to stay sober for six months, let alone some nine years."

"Hmm, I give you that." Douglas raised his coffee cup in a salute. "But it's not the kind of achievement that wins you any plaudits. It's just a bloody never-ending struggle you have to fight all over again every single day. But you can say the same for yourself, you know. You could have just sold G-ERTIE after your divorce, lived on the money, let yourself be a little old lady who lunches. Instead you're CEO of MJN Air. As you once told me, despite everything, it's a good thing to be."

Carolyn snorted. "Despite everything! It's better than the alternative but sometimes it feels as if there are no good choices left. It's just about trying to pick the least damaging of the bad ones until you finally die. And until that happens, you struggle on with it alone."

Douglas stared up at the ceiling for a long time before answering. "Alone is hard. Sometimes I actually envy you Arthur and Snoopadoop. Sometimes I have to stop myself from asking any random woman I meet to become the fourth Mrs. Richardson, just to fill the silence in my house."

"Well, you can borrow Arthur anytime," replied Carolyn wryly. "He certainly fills in silence effectively." She stared down into her coffee mug for a long moment. "Douglas, forgive me but I can't drink this swill. Anyway, I should get back to my room." She stood up slowly, as if reluctant to leave. 

Douglas rolled over onto one elbow and regarded her steadily. "Stay here," he said at last, patting the bed beside him. "Not with any ulterior motive, life isn't all about sex, just to... you know..."

"You! With no ulterior motive?" Carolyn regarded him sceptically. 

Douglas gave her a tired smile. "Okay, maybe a bit of a one. I suspect both you and I are suffering adrenaline crash too. And we are going to lie awake staring miserably into the darkness on our own."

"Alright," said Carolyn eventually. "But only in the interests of having my one competent pilot actually awake at the helm."

"Of course. I'd expect nothing less from you." Douglas turned away from her, stripped efficiently down to his boxers and t-shirt and then climbed under the duvet. 

Carolyn turned out the light before taking off her blouse and skirt and sliding in next to him in just her slip. "Hands to yourself, Mr Richardson," she ordered. 

"Of course, ma'am," he replied. "Is this acceptable?" He turned onto his side to spoon loosely behind her, letting one arm slide round her waist but keeping his hand carefully away from her body. 

"It'll do," she conceded. She waited until she was fairly sure he was asleep before wriggling a little closer to the warmth of his body and letting her hand lie gently over his.

\- THE END -


End file.
